


Avengers Myths

by uminoko



Series: Avengers Myths [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:59:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uminoko/pseuds/uminoko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fairy tale approach to Avengers' stories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dancer

Let me tell you a story.

A long time ago, before there were modern ways of measuring time, before clocks and hourglasses, there was a little village in the mountains, and there was a little girl born in this village. It was the custom of the village to not reveal a newborn’s name before the sun set and rose the proper number of times, to protect them from misfortune, so only her parents knew her name. 

Shortly after she was born, her family’s hut burned down. The villagers discovered her lying in the snow in the middle of the ruins of her home, looking up at the sky, ashes spread on her baby face like a spiderweb, and they knew that she killed her parents. You see, the little girl had the power to bring death to those she loved, the shaman explained. For that, and for the nature of her first blood debt, she was cursed by the ancestors with never knowing her true name and only taking on the character of whatever was around her. This strange magic was apparent from her eyes that were blue when she smiled at the sky from the snow and ashes of her parents’ house, and the fire that entered her hair, so it gleamed red in the sun.

This was a terrible power, the villagers decided, but they were civilized people, and would not mete out the usual punishment for such crimes upon a baby, especially when there was a simple solution, to everyone’s benefit. They sent a messenger to a clan of warriors who were skilled, fierce, and loved no one.

“Be wary,” the shaman told the leader of the warriors when he answered the call, “for even though she is marked with the colors of your clan, even though she will bring death and ruin to your enemies, if even one of your people shows her true affection, she will devour you all and suck the marrow from your bones until even your place in legends is nothing but ashes.”

The leader laughed. ”We are strong, and brave, and clever, and we will teach her what we know, that love is for children, not warriors. Give us this girl, and we will turn her into the greatest weapon this land has ever known. Besides, I recognize this girl as our Goddess Kālarātri, one of the seven tongues of the God of Fire, the dancer that appears in soldiers’ dreams on the blackest nights, and she would not bring death to her acolytes.”

He was a foolish and arrogant man.

And so the baby changed hands at twilight, and her eyes were grey in the winter mist. The leader was correct in his assessment of her nature—she did grow up to be a great warrior. However, the tale of the things about which the men were wrong is a story for another day.


	2. The Outcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner's story is essentially the story of Rebecca Banner, the brave woman who did all she could to save her son. Apologies for setting up this 'village' as a sexist place; the author certainly does not endorse their attitudes and practices. As expected with a Banner origin, tw: child abuse.

The dark-eyed boy was born in the village, and he was so small that he fit into the palm of his mother's hand like a kitten. There was no reason for him to survive, but his mother loved him very much. She went out into the wilderness and climbed a mountain full of stones and found a cave, where an old wise woman lived.

"Mother," she asked the wise woman, "my child is small and weak, and is not fit for this harsh world. Tell me how to save him."

Now, the wise woman had no love for little boys, except maybe the tender fleshy ones, but she took pity on the young mother.

"Pull down a star," she said, "and hang it above his cradle. Its power will protect him from the dark. However; I will warn you that stars are not meant to shine on earth for long, and one day it will float back up to the sky, and he will surely die. But you will have a few years with him if you follow my words."

The young woman was sad, for she did not receive the answer that she wanted, but she thanked her mentor nonetheless, because after all, she was a very smart young woman.

***  
And so she pulled down a star and hung it up above her son's cradle, where it shone crimson day and night. The boy grew stronger, though not terribly strong--he was still smaller than other kids in the village, because it was a small star, but clever, and the boy was cleverer still. He looked at everything with his dark, somber eyes, taking in the barking dogs, the clay walls of the hut, his mother's weariness. He watched everything, and when he started talking, truth sang from his tongue. He could tell if the cows would get sick, and when the water would boil, and when the rain would come; he knew things before they happened.

The boy's father was not pleased. His son was too quiet, too smart, and noticed too many things. The man suspected that his wife has done something unnatural, and he was afraid. Perhaps he was afraid of the secret powers that women trade among themselves, or maybe he feared that the boy would turn his gaze upon his father and see the darkness in him. But the man grew angrier and more cruel, and often struck his wife and the boy, even when it was not proper.

The woman persevered. She protected her son as best as she could, but with every blow that was struck, she could feel the power of the star waning, until one day it got so light that it started to float up into the sky.

Now, it was not proper for the women of the village to live without a house, but she loved her son so much that she would rather raise him as a fatherless stray, with no one to teach him to be a man, than risk the boy's survival. She gathered some bread and cheese, tied them up in a spare dress, took the boy and the star, and left her home.

Right outside the hut stood her husband. He knew what she was doing immediately, and became filled with cold, cold rage. "You have consorted with demons, and this is no child of mine!" he screamed and struck the woman down. 

That was the last blow the star could take. It flew back to the sky, the child watching with his dark eyes, his mother looking up from the ground.

In that moment, she understood the nature of stars--that they were, in fact, hearts, and you didn't need to reach up to the heavens for those. A fist unclenched in her mind, and as she laid upon the earth at the threshold of her house, she left her own heart go, and bright it shone upon the boy who held her in his arms. From then on, two hearts beat in his chest, and he had the strength of his star.

"Monster!" his father yelled over the woman's dying breath. The villagers started gathering around the hut. "He's possessed by a demon!" he told them, and while the villagers were leery of such claims, it was indisputable that the boy had two hearts and the body of the woman he held had none. So, the cautious people that they were, they stripped the boy of the protections of society and drove him from the village, to live on the outskirts of the world with coyotes and vultures, where he remained until he grew into a young man and met the chieftain's daughter, but that's a story for another day.


	3. The Warrior Prince

You've heard the story before.  The boy was born a prince.  Or no, maybe not a prince; perhaps a wealthy merchant, but one who made weapons so fine that kings bowed to him and begged him to better their armies.

The prince was a child curious and bright, and had a spiritual bend that worried his father, since in that time it was common for princes to run from their legacy in search of a heavenly fortune.  So, the boy was surrounded with things to keep him firmly tied to his kingdom--all manners of earthly delights; wondrous toys from distant lands at first, fortunetelling dolls and flying mechanical parts that could hold entire conversations with their spellbound audience.  And for a while, the prince was occupied, but he was too smart to be happy for long, because he discovered he could build those toys himself, and the wonder had gone from them.

But the years passed, and by then, new delights appeared:  dancing girls, fine food and drink, and the company of friends.  Thirty summers and three have passed by, and the prince has not left the walls of his kingdom.

You know what happens next, for this is an ancient tale.  The prince is dragged from his cocoon, and when he comes back, he finds it stifling.  He meets in the desert sickness, and death, and an enlightened man, so he stopps taking pleasure in a world that his father has built to keep from him the reality of life.  Thus, his father's worst fears came true.  The prince's heart broke, and the walls could no longer contiain him.

(he still has a lot to learn, of course, but his lessons are a story for another day)


	4. The Once And Future Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with all the apologies to Sir Thomas Malory

The realm stood in great jeopardy, for its lords quarreled for the title of the king, and one especially grew brutal in the fight, commiting great atrocities.  Thus, a wizard by the name of Erskine escaped from that lord, and went to the Archbishop and told him to send for all the knights to come to the City by Christmas, for the Lord on this Holy Day would reveal the true king of the realm.  And in the greatest church of the city there was to be an altar visible from every point, and against the altar a great stone, and on the anvil ther would lay a shield wrought by the finest weaponmaker of old from star-metal, and letters written about the shield would be: "Whoso lifts this shield from the stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all Realm."

And so it was ordained, and the people marveled, but no lord or knight could stir the shield.  To keep the lords together, on New Year's day, they held a tourney and a joust, for Erskine had faith that the true king would be revealed.  So it happened that Sir Philips rode to the jousts, and with him rode young Sir James, newly knighted, and his foster brother Steven, who was his squire.  Young Steven wished to be a knight himself, but his birth and hist stature were both too low to put on a proper suit of armor.  So, as they rode, Sir James recalled he had left his shield at his lodging, and turned around his horse, but young Steven knew Sir James was loath to miss the jousts, and stopped him to ride for the shield himself.  

Steven rode fast, but could not find the shield in their home. So, he rode back, and came upon the churchyard, and saw that there was the altar, and the stone, and the anvil of steel, and the shield upon the anvil.  "I shall take this shield," said Steven to himself, "so that my brother James will not be without a shield this day."

So Steven came to the churchyard, and found no one there, for all knights were at the jousting.  And so he took the shield with both his hands, and pulled it lightly and fiercely from the stone, and took his horse and rode away.  And he came upon his brother Sir James, and delivered him the shield.  But as soon as Sir James looked upon young Steven, he wist well that Steven was taller, and stronger, and looked noble as a knight.  And so Sir James saw that the shield Steven held was the shield of the stone, and he rode to Sir Philips, and said: Sir, lo here is the shield of stone that my broughter brought, wherefore he must be the king of this land."

And Sir Philips beheld the shield, and they all three rode to the church.  "Now," said Sir Philips to Steven, "I understand ye must be king of this land."

"Wherefore I," said Steven, "and for what course?"

"Sir," said Philips, "for God will have it so."

But as to how Steven was crowned, and made officers, and the dream of the King with the Hundred Knights, and what happened to Sir James, that is a story for another day.


End file.
